


The Third King's Lost Tomb

by telracsactually



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Cadet Adora, Cadet Catra, Canon Compliant, Catra is a military nerd, Emotional Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Jealous Catra (She-Ra), Kissing, Lesbian Disaster Adora (She-Ra), Past Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Pre-Canon, Scorpion Royalty, Sparring, Teen Romance, The Fright Zone (She-Ra), Verbal Abuse, We're going to dabble in that history to spice things up a lil bit, baBIESSSS, emotional etherians, they're probably like 15/16, ya know, yeah they fight here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25669807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telracsactually/pseuds/telracsactually
Summary: The next time Adora meets Catra's mismatched gaze, she feels the invisible magnet that has always existed between them. Catra's big hair, her hands, and her mouth send butterflies and heat all through Adora's body. They work out their feelings the only ways they know how; through intense, unrestrained spars, or by hiding from Horde surveillance. But after getting caught by Shadow Weaver, Catra is desperate to prove herself and escape the sorcerer's wrath without needing Adora's help. She says she knows where to find the Third Scorpion King's Lost Tomb, rumored to carry a magical shield with protective properties.Now Adora and Catra are tasked with their first mission as Horde cadets--to retrieve the shield in Hordak's name, all while realizing a lifetime of bottled feelings and missed chances.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Possible Adora/Lonnie because we love jealousy in this house
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. take me to the roof

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Thank you so much for clicking on my story. I have literally not written since like 2015, but these two are such a whirlwind to write, I love them so much :') 
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter story, so if you feel like it's too short, don't fret, there's definitely way more to this story coming soon. My only notes--
> 
> 1\. The only thing you need to know is I made Catra afraid of mice for reasons. Sapphic reasons.  
> 2\. You can't tell me Catra isn't a huge military nerd.  
> Hope you enjoy!

“Pst. Adora!” 

Adora walks between rows of tall media shelves, eyes focused on the thin spines of lined compact discs. She peruses over each disc’s coded label, crossing each one off of a mental list. The labels are small and the numbers and letters shuffle and dance right as she tries to make sense of them, so she glares with a certain focus until the code untangles itself. She wishes for an easier way to find things, that she can just touch something and know what slept in there. She imagines walking through the uneven land of those compact discs, through its wilderness and data, walking into every answer for every question she has about the outside world. Every week the shelves are stocked with newer discs, coded with the information they’ve collected from the original libraries of The Fright Zone, and exploits beyond. Adora wants to know all of it. 

“Adora…!” 

Adora finally hears her name and looks. Catra is at the far end of the path, a playful light in her eyes and in her smile a magnet. Her tail is hanging above her shoulder like a small bell. Adora smiles and walks over, eyeing the small computer and short stack of discs piled next to it. 

“Are you actually doing homework in here?” 

“Nope,” Catra presses back against the wall and avoids looking into Adora’s face. “I’m looking up battles of the Fright Zone. Before Hordak.” When Adora only eyes her, Catra grows defensive. “What? One day we’re going to be the ones to decide what happens. You wouldn’t want to know what everyone else did wrong? Besides, I think I’ve got a lead on The Third King’s tomb we’ve been hearing rumors about.” 

“Oh, someone sounds like she wants to be Force Captain.” Adora teases. She places herself on the ground next to Catra, lays her head on the other girl’s lap and pokes a finger right underneath Catra’s chin. “Who would’ve thought _you_ wanted to move up in the Horde?” 

“Shut up, you know I don’t care about that stuff.” Catra gently swats away Adora’s hand, but smirks down when she says, “Shadow Weaver would literally go bald.” 

Adora snorts. “Okay, why is imagining her bald and angry so terrifying?”

“Because she’s got nothing left to lose.” 

Adora laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes. “Oh, that’s so bad,” she says, breathing. 

Adora looks into her eyes and locks onto them. She’s caught in the opposing forces of ocean and amber, drowned and lit up like gas fire all at once. Adora sees her own eyes in them and sees herself stripped of her uniform like Catra can see something even Adora hasn’t fully seen yet. It’s warmer than anything she’s ever touched. She drags her eyes away from Catra’s and zooms in on the tiny movement in the middle of the path, closer than she would have liked. She focuses and sees its dark, beady eyes and the long, crude-looking tail behind its small body.

“Oh my—mouse!” 

“What!?”

Catra immediately jumps, light on her feet as she climbs to the top of a media shelf without knocking over any of the discs. The mouse scurries from its hiding spot back into the space between the shelves, away from them. Catra whines from her perch. Adora shivers in disgust. 

“How are there mice in this library!” 

Catra whines her name and it begs for her with the way she sounds like she is about to burst into tears. 

“It’s okay! I don’t think it’s coming back,” Adora says. She doesn’t know if that’s true. The truth is Adora’s heart is racing just as fast as Catra’s. “Do you think you can get down from there?” 

Catra wants to say no. “Will you carry me?” 

Adora watches her eyes again, tries not to get caught in its ocean and fire, and puts out her arms for Catra to land on. “I’ll carry you.” 

Catra shifts. She thinks she sees a shadow from the corner of her eye again and her fur seems to rise with static. “Ah!—you promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Catra jumps into Adora’s arms, and Adora catches her like she always does. 

Catra hides her face in Adora’s chest until Adora makes it out of the library. When they’re out, Adora doesn’t put her down. She doesn’t say anything when Catra lifts her head from Adora’s chest and watches the walls narrow and darken as Adora walks them through a long hallway. 

“Talk to me about the tombs,” Adora says.

“It’s just one tomb,” Catra corrects. Her head finds its warm spot on Adora’s chest. “The Third King is buried with some sort of ancient Etherian shield with protective qualities. Sounds like something that could come in handy for the Horde.”

Adora keeps Catra close to her chest, as close to her heart as she can have her while they walk through this dark space together. 

“Is it magical, like the princesses?”

“Yes. Shadow Weaver already uses the black garnet. I’m sure there’s a way this shield can be used too. But--” Catra looks around them, not finding anything she recognizes. Rows of supplies and electrical wiring line the dimly lit hallway, thick cables hanging loosely from the unfinished ceiling. Adora is careful walking by them. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

Adora nods. “It’s a surprise.” 

“What kind of surprise? Please. I hate surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.”

Adora stops in front of a hazard sign. Behind it, a locked door blocks their path. She gently lowers Catra from her arms. Once her feet touch the ground Catra reaches for Adora’s hand as she types in a password onto the small touchpad. A lightbulb above the door shines green before it opens, and Adora and Catra smile at each other before they walk through it. The door closes behind them. Ahead of them lay sets of tall staircases leading upwards. 

“Is this—” Catra asks. 

“It takes us to a rooftop. This one is facing east, away from the barracks and radio towers,” Adora says. “Plus, zero patrols right now. 8 flights. Who do you think is going to make it first?” 

“Not your slow ass,” Catra laughs. She lets go of Adora’s hand and lunges forward, her claws gripping onto the railing as she pushes herself up, moving higher and higher from railing to railing, skipping flights of stairs as if she was flying. Adora groans.

“Catra, wait! That is _so_ not fair.”

Adora chases after her. Catra lands gracefully on each railing, swinging her body to the next one above, pouncing off her small perch with little effort. Catra makes it to the top first, but another locked door stares her down. There’s another hazard sign here, along with a warning sign and the image of someone falling off of a cliff. _Restricted._ _Builders Entrance Only._

Adora comes up behind her, a heavy hand on Catra’s shoulder, trying to speak through her labored breathing. “Why do you always do that?” Adora doubles over. Her head falls into the dip of Catra’s shoulder. “I—I just need a minute.” 

Catra slowly steps towards the keypad and raises her hand to it. Adora follows her without breaking away. “What’s the code?” 

Adora rattles off the numbers and Catra taps them in. Adora raises her head just as the bulb above the door turns green. When it opens, a blinding, red-colored sky greets them from the other side. Catra’s eyes are wide. This is the third time they have gotten to an unpatrolled rooftop, and the sight of land beyond the Fright Zone is more precious each time, all that much more full of wonder. 

Catra runs across the expanse and Adora is close behind her. She is careful to avoid the scattered piles of metal paneling and open wires. Catra makes it against the railing, her face warmed by the bloodied sunset, her big, wild hair blowing in the gentle breeze as she looks over to the other side. The view is far away, but this is still the closest they’ve gotten. They watch the world outside of the Fright Zone, its wild trees and forest, the winged beasts that fly above its tall bushes. They try to guess the names of them. 

“Could you imagine flying on one of those things? Seeing what they see?”

Adora does. She sees the land and the trees that grow with it and the flowers that grow from it, she sees the beasts without wings and how far their free legs take them and she sees her own legs, taking her further away, somewhere deep and hidden from the Fright Zone, somewhere without walls and without locked doors. 

“We need to go out there one day,” Adora says. “Me and you.” 

“As if I’d go with anyone else,” Catra says. Catra tests the railing with half of her bodyweight. It threatens to buckle underneath her grip. She steadies herself. “Guess sitting on the ground will have to do here.”

The east side of the Fright Zone has been largely in construction ever since the girls could remember. When they were children, most of their time outside was spent within an enclosed gate, with projections for skies and stereos for sound. The first time they were really outside, they were learning how to clean and maintain weapons brought back from battle, how to repair them, and when to stop trying to. 

“How did you find this place?”

“What, you thought you were the only one with secret hiding spots?” 

Catra rolls her eyes, “Didn’t know you loved trespassing so much, that’s all.”

They both sit and look out into the open expanse, their fingers hovering towards the other, but not quite touching. 

Adora looks out for a long time. “So.” 

“So.” 

“I heard one of the guys from the west wing tried to ask you to hang out.” 

“Oh please, spare me,” Catra groans. She hides her face behind her hands. “That was so _weird.”_

Adora smiles, but something in her chest weighs like stone. “What’d you tell him?” 

Catra peeks from behind her hands. There is an unreadable look in her eyes. “I said no, obviously.” 

“Is it because you like someone else?” 

Catra’s tail frays at the question. Her cheeks are red and Adora wants to put her hands on them. “I’m not telling you!” 

Adora lets a surprised sound. “So you do like someone!” 

“I do not!” 

Catra throws herself onto Adora. Adora catches her wrists, but Catra’s full weight forces her back to the ground. Catra straddles Adora and tries to break from the strong grip on both of her wrists. 

“If you don’t, why are you fighting me?” Adora asks through fits of laughter. “It’s me, isn’t it?” Adora teases, and Catra loses it. 

“It’s _definitely_ not you!” Catra breaks out of Adora’s hold and tickles her side. Adora flinches and laughs, out of surprise and out of the sensation of being touched in a part of her body so private. Catra takes hold of both of Adora’s wrists and leans over, her face closer to Adora’s than it has ever been. They lock eyes for a moment, not knowing where to go from here but meditating on the distance left between them. Catra’s hair brushes the sides of Adora’s face, and Catra’s body is over Adora’s body and there is a pooling of heat that Adora doesn’t understand. “You are _so_ annoying,” Catra says. Her lips look smooth and glossy. 

“Oh, you love it.” 

Catra groans, and pushes herself off Adora. She is on the verge of laughter when she says, “Whatever, shut up.” 

Adora lifts her back from the ground and watches Catra with soft eyes. “Your hair has always been so long.” 

Catra quickly touches the length of her hair. She brings it over her shoulder and runs her fingers through the ends of it. “You think it’s too long?” 

Adora reads the frown on Catra’s face and wants to fix it. “No--can I touch it?” 

Catra nods. 

Adora immediately moves forward to touch the length of her hair. She is slow while she frames Catra’s face with her big hair, its softness and airiness always a surprise when she feels it on the palms of her hands. Adora’s face feels so warm facing her. “I think it’s really pretty.”

“Oh.” Catra looks away. Her face is warm too, maybe with the heat of the sun and industrial smoke that blows out from the ugly, bulging, alien buildings. Maybe it’s being outside without a gate over their heads, without a Force Captain or Shift Lead eyeing them. Adora wants Catra to sit with her words because she doesn’t get to say it often. Her hair is pretty. Catra is very pretty. 

“I think Roll Call is in a few minutes,” Catra says, finally, and Adora smiles, because she knows that Catra knows that she is flustered and speechless and doesn’t know how to say ‘Thank you.’ “We should probably get going.” 

Adora is already standing. She holds her hand out to Catra with a dumb smile on her face. 

Catra looks at Adora’s hand and admires its softness. She takes it. Adora pulls her up, and they leave the rooftop, hand in hand.


	2. hot and cold and warm

The cafeteria is one of the few places where time actually feels like they're in recess. It bustles, conversations twisting and pouring into all of its empty spaces. Catra and Adora sit with their arms touching, giggles hiding in the noise of everyone else who laughed just then. Adora moves Catra's hair away from her shoulder and asks her if she wants to tie it up before she eats, but Catra wants her hair out. The brightness of Catra's eyes dulls when she sees Lonnie walking up to them, flashing Adora a soft smile. Catra rolls her eyes and takes a big bite of her ration bar, but Adora's bumps her knee and Catra can't stop herself from smiling. Lonnie places her tray across from them and passes them each a small badge. She is a little sluggish in her movements, her clothes clinging tighter onto the sheen of her skin, her hair hanging lower than usual. When she sits down, she stares into the space between them for a long time and lets out a big sigh.

“You two are on guard duty tomorrow, as per Force Captain Grizzlor.” 

“Seriously?” Catra complains. She swallows the rest of her ration bar and moves to go for seconds. “We were just on guard duty three days ago.”

Lonnie eyes her plate and the food on it when she answers. “They’ve got everyone in our barracks on some double duty. I heard the soldiers at the west wing took a hard beating over at Bright Moon. It might take a while for them to make a full recovery.” 

“That sucks,” says Adora. Lonnie softens and nods in agreement.

“It’s bad enough doing all that once a week on top of all the other things they have us doing. Do they know we need sleep to function?” Lonnie says.

“I thought robots didn’t need sleep,” Adora jokes. 

Catra groans on her way away from the table. 

“Oh, hey Kyle, hey Rogelio” Adora greets as they seat next to Lonnie. She watches Kyle take a careful bite out of his ration bar, and next to him, watches Rogelio swallow his whole.

“Hey Adora,” Kyle says. He glances down at the small badge she’s massaging between her fingers. “Oh, guard duty huh? You know, they told me I had to stay on cleaning duty for the rest of the week! That’s so unfair!” 

Adora agrees, moving her hands to toy with her ration bar. She hasn’t touched it since she got it. She breaks it in half, then breaks it again into smaller pieces. 

“Not hungry?” Lonnie asks. Adora glances over her arms and notices her shoulders and biceps curving beneath the shirt’s fabric.

“Uhm,” Adora pulls her eyes to meet Lonnie, who is smiling. “You know, normally I would be all over this but…” Adora shrugs, unsure of what to say. 

“I mean, eating the same thing every single day after learning how to chew definitely gets old,” Lonnie says.

They tune into Kyle’s story, something about how he had gotten blamed for a food fight that had moved into the shower room when Adora notices Catra walking up behind him, a bounce in her step as half of her torso is covered by the heaping plate of ration bars she brings in her hands. 

“Oh, hey Kyle.” 

Kyle quiets as Catra takes her seat next to Adora. She sets down the plate on the table and looks between the other three across from her. Rogelio and Lonnie quickly get up from their seats announcing that they’re going for seconds. Kyle scarfs down the rest of his bar before excusing himself and calling out after Rogelio. Adora takes a pointed look at Catra’s plate, and Catra does the same to hers.

“You’ve barely touched your food.” Catra says. 

Adora stutters. “Oh, no. It’s just--” Just what? She doesn’t even know what. Adora catches herself admiring Catra's jawline, the shape of her mouth. “I--I don’t think I’m that hungry today. I just, I think I need sleep or something.” 

Catra narrows her eyes, suspicion coloring the ice and fire in them. “I don’t believe you,” she says simply, reaching for a ration bar and taking a bite. “You’re a horrible liar.” 

“Ugh, Catra--”

Catra shoves part of the bar inside Adora’s mouth. “There, there, _Adora_ . Be a _good girl_ and finish your food.” 

Adora takes a bite, and whatever doesn’t make it into her closed mouth falls into her open palm. She throws the large crumbs onto her plate and chews as Catra watches with a pleased smile on her face. 

“How is it?”

“Oh, ngyou gknow, oogh--” Adora chokes.

Catra laughs and it’s contagious and alarming. “Ah--you’re so dumb!” She holds onto her sides and drops her head onto Adora’s shoulder and Adora realizes it tingles in that same spot now, the way Catra’s sound touches her lungs and her stomach and she is laughing now too. Her forehead meets the side of Catra’s face, humid and soft. They turn into each other as their laughter dies down into something quieter. She doesn’t know when the others had returned, or how long they have been back for. Kyle’s voice tries to wiggle through to them, but Catra's hand is on her thigh and its heat is all she can think about. 

“Uh, guys--” 

A different sound that breaks the spell. Something deep, jagged. Catra and Adora both straighten up as Shadow Weaver rounds their table, her long, pointed nails dragging along its surface. The red garnet on her mask flashes an angry thunderstorm. 

“Catra, how many times do I have to tell you that the Horde has _no_ tolerance for foolish, careless displays of behavior? No surprise I keep having to remind you, seeing as you’ve been forgetting how to show up for your classes too. Perhaps I need to make sure you make it on time yourself.”

“Shadow Weaver--” Catra starts, but Adora cuts in.

“That’s not true. That only happened once because she wasn’t feeling well.” 

All eyes fall on her, except for Catra’s. Catra’s hands are trembling in her lap. Adora briefly wonders if she should have said anything at all, but it’s too late now. She wears her strongest frown and squares her shoulders. 

“Oh, sweetheart, Horde soldiers don’t get sick. Especially not insolent, disobedient brats.” 

Catra’s eyes widen, but still she doesn’t look up. “It’s not her fault,” Adora pleads. She wonders if that’s the right thing to say again, but she can barely think. 

Shadow Weaver sighs and does what Adora knew she would do on a good day. She fixes her tone in front of bright blue eyes, warns her to keep Catra well behaved, and leaves without anything else. Catra is silent throughout it all. Shadow Weaver doesn’t look back to see if Catra watches her leave.

When Shadow Weaver has gone from the cafeteria, Catra removes herself from the table without a word and marches away from them. Adora gets up after her and walks off in Catra’s direction, chasing after the back of a girl who might be tearfully crying somewhere just out of reach, the same girl who might pick a fight with someone she shouldn’t because she doesn’t know what else to do. Adora slows down when she reaches a large gallery. She looks up at a giant window high above her. Catra sits there, small and within herself, facing away from everything. 

Adora runs across the room up a set of stairs, until she can jump off the railing and climb up the gigantic Horde flag that hangs beneath the window. Adora makes it to the thick, metal bar which holds up the flag. She climbs it and swings onto the window sill. Catra doesn’t face her. She looks out into the darkness that slowly spreads over their skies, the dirty clouds that hover over them. Adora sits close to her. 

The wind blows through Catra’s hair and against her bare feet. Adora lets her skin cool down with it. 

“Hey,” she says. 

Catra laughs. “Hey, Adora.” 

“Are you okay?” 

Catra’s shoulders shake. Adora scoots closer and laces their fingers together, but Catra pulls away. The tears fall down Catra’s cheeks, each one breaking Adora’s heart. 

“What’s not my fault, Adora? Being an insolent, disobedient brat, or sullying the Horde’s reputation by getting sick one time?”

“Catra--”

“It’s not _fair!_ I hate Shadow Weaver, she is always picking on me, she is always--people don’t go to class _all_ the time. What is wrong with me that I’m so--”

Catra can’t finish. She chokes on a quiet sob, and Adora holds her. This time, Catra doesn’t break away. “What did I do? Nobody wants me here. Why am I so useless? I am so _stupid_.”

“You are none of those things. I want you here.”

Adora keeps their hands together, keeps her eyes on her body and prays for her to come back from where she is right now. 

“Adora, I am so so stupid. Why didn’t I just go? What is wrong with me? I wish I could grab that stupid mask from her stupid, scarred face.”

She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want this for her. She tells her over and over again that there is nothing wrong with her, that she is right here for her and squeezes her hand hard so that Catra knows. She promises she isn’t going to leave her. That it’s going to be them no matter what. That she did nothing wrong. Adora is never tired of saying it. She means it every time. Catra is her best friend. Every hole Catra digs, Adora will find a way to get her out. 

“I need to do something,” Catra pulls away, voice shaky. 

“No you don’t,” Adora says.

“Please, Adora, I need to hurt something. Where’s Kyle?”

“Catra, you’re not hurting Kyle. You’re not hurting anyone.”

“Why do we always have to do what you say?” Catra says suddenly. “Why are you right?”

Adora feels her stomach twist at the attack. “B-because--Catra, you can’t hurt people just because you want to.”

“So if you aren’t going to try to help me do me a favor and leave me alone,” she lashes out. She starts scratching at the metal beneath her claws, vibrating with too much energy. Too much breath inside of her. Everything is too much.

Adora doesn’t respond for a while. “Do you really want that?”

“Yes,” Catra hisses. Adora doesn’t move. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” Adora says. “I’m not taking that away from you.” 

She lifts her knees to her chest and hugs them close, “Sure feels that way.”

“I’m not. I just don’t…want to see you get hurt. I can’t protect you if--”

“So then don’t.” 

Adora frowns. “Catra, you’re my best friend. That’s impossible. But you know what I’m saying, don’t you?”

Catra doesn’t respond. 

“Do you wanna come to bed?” Adora asks. 

Catra doesn’t look at her. Her ears fall against her head, defeated and scared. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

“Come on. I don’t sleep well without you.” 

Catra stares ahead for a long time. Adora doesn’t take her eyes off her. She wonders what is going through Catra’s mind, how she cycles through her emotions from worthlessness to retribution. She wishes she knew everything. She wishes she could just touch her and step into her mind somehow. 

A heavy breath is released out into the dark sky. “Okay,” Catra finally says. 

When they get to the bed-chamber, Catra curls up in Adora’s bed. Adora lays down facing her and pulls the blanket over both of them. The bed sits at the far corner towards the back of the room, the furthest away from the door. They lay there in silence, Adora slowly reaching her arm over Catra’s shoulders and bringing her into her chest. Catra makes herself even smaller, as if the blanket and the bed and Adora would swallow her up.

It doesn’t take long for Catra’s eyes to get heavy. She falls asleep easily with Adora. 

Adora does too, and though she doesn’t normally dream when she sleeps, this time she is in the middle of a forest, underneath a canopy of twisting trees, glowing mushrooms and blinking spores flurrying behind her, the ground like some sort of mineral deposit. She has never been here before, but she knows it and walks the path like it’s routine, like she has walked it a hundred times.

When she gets to the end of it Catra is standing in the middle of it all. The world starts to fall apart around her. She looks at the ground breaking underneath her and then she looks right into Adora’s eyes.

Adora is suddenly shoved awake by Octavia’s rough hands. Catra wakes up hissing, hair frazzled upwards until she feels the bed she’s clawed into, sees Adora’s early morning sour frown, and sees Octavia, rolling her eyes and walking away.

Adora reaches her hands over her head and stretches to awaken her body. 

“You sleep okay?” Adora asks. Catra rolls out of bed and groggily twists and stretches and yawns before placing both hands on her hips.

“I’ll be better once I scratch out Octavia’s other eye,” Catra grunts. “Whatever. Let’s just get today over with.”

Adora gets out of bed, bumps her gently as they make their way to the shower room. “Don’t be such a sourpuss.” 


	3. Butterfly Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but hope you're still looking forward to this! 
> 
> How is everyone doing anyway? Hope we're all surviving and taking care of ourselves, especially my people in America. Election Day is coming up. Please make sure you're registered to vote. 
> 
> Enjoy the read :)

Catra is the dirtiest fighter.

Catra doesn’t think she actually fights dirty--fights are battles where only one can be left standing and she can’t be the one to lose. She uses and does everything she can. Everyone can try to expect less of her--poor grades, attendance, an attitude--but never in a fight. She is always on top.

Her, and Adora.

Catra brings up her staff to dodge an overhead attack. She pushes off the mat and uses her strength to force Adora back. Adora lands gracefully on one knee, and Catra runs headfirst towards her, staff ready and aiming to lunge right at Adora’s chest. Adora stands and steels herself.

Catra doesn’t try to fight dirty. Her eyes pick up on the sweat that drops from Adora’s chin, the smell of her excitement and anxiety. It’s like citrus. Adora backflips and swivels to the side and Catra spins, meeting all of Adora’s attacks with her own and then hard enough for Adora to lose her footing. Catra notices and corrects her with the end of her staff. When Adora meets her gaze, a confused, stupid look on her face, Catra raises her staff and knocks the wind out of her.

Adora falls to the ground and the alarm goes off. Catra wins.

“You didn’t have to hit me _that_ hard, Catra.”

Catra saunters over, a proud smirk on her face. “That’s payback for last time.” Adora takes the hand Catra holds out for her and Catra pulls her up and walks her past the mat and into the locker room. Adora sits down and lifts her shirt. There is already a navy bruise spreading on her left side. Catra goes into a small fridge and takes out an ice pack. She sorts through an overhead cabinet and picks out some ointment too. When Catra returns to Adora, she whistles. 

“Ouch. That looks almost as painful as slamming my toe with your staff.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” she says, and Catra laughs. “And that was by accident, for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Adora watches Catra twist open the bottle of ointment. She dives in and grabs it from her.

“I got it! It, uh, tickles when you do it.”

Catra rolls her eyes and lets Adora apply it herself. Adora winces, but her skin looks soft to the touch. Catra wants to feel it, and at the same time, wants to run away from it. 

“Catra? The ice pack?”

“Huh.” Catra looks at the ice pack in her hands. Why did she grab it again?

Adora takes it, puts her shirt back down and ices the bruise. “Head in the game, soldier.”

Catra grunts. She tries to pinpoint when Adora became so-- _different._

“How is it that you’re that small with the strength of 5 incredibly buff Horde soldiers?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Shut up, you sound dumb.” She sits down and leans towards Adora, a comfortable smile on her face.

“I bet you could take down a bot with your bare hands,” her eyes wander Catra’s face. 

Catra giggles and rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, bet I could kick Hordak’s butt too.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re the strongest girl I know.”

Catra’s cheeks warm and she doesn’t fight the smile that takes over her face. “You’re so dumb, Adora.” 

“I’m not _dumb,”_ Adora says, and flicks Catra’s forehead. Catra yelps and tries to flick her back, but Adora grabs her finger. She stares into Catra’s eyes with an odd smile, one she doesn’t know what to do with or how to make meaning of. 

“No one talks about your eyes much,” Adora says. 

“What?”

“You have really nice eyes.”

What is Adora doing? 

“Shut up! Now I’m definitely taking away your ice pack. You need more than first aid. You need a nurse.”

Adora’s laughter is distant now. Catra’s finger is still wrapped around Adora’s hand but she can feel Adora pulling away. Catra pulls herself free and then quickly gathers Adora’s free hand into hers and studies her fingers. Catra’s voice is a low sweet drawl when she says, “You’ve got nice hands.”

Now what is _she_ doing?

Catra doesn’t want to stop touching Adora’s hands, and Adora doesn’t want to pull away. They sit there for a while, until Catra picks up on chatter from down the hall.

“Someone’s coming,” she says. They both pull away at once. “Meet me on the roof?”

Adora doesn’t think she heard her right, but then Catra winks at her and picks up her hair while she walks and fans her neck. Adora sees Catra like she is walking through fire this time, her shoulders bare, the dip of Catra’s back curved like a perfect hill that only exists away from the Fright Zone. Adora notices the new, sweet-like curves for the first time. Even Catra’s hips seem to have opened up, like butterfly wings. Adora’s body lights up when she realizes her own thoughts. She looks away from her body, ashamed to have been staring for so long. Catra’s form disappears and in come two other girls who had just finished their sparring lesson. 

Adora smiles at them, then gets up and goes into her locker. She takes out a pair of shoes and slips them on. She’ll shower later. She wants to chase whatever feeling this is. She needs to go to the roof, where Catra would be waiting for her.

Adora lets her hair down as she walks through the maze-like hallways. She comes onto a familiar stairway and climbs it. Adora arrives at the top of it and finds Catra exactly where she expects her to be, sitting right under the red sky, looking out into the rest of the Fright Zone and beyond it. Adora sits right in front of her. 

“The view’s really nice,” Catra says, meeting her eyes.

Adora blinks, then nervously looks between Catra and the view before them, suddenly empty of the courage and rush that brought her here. “Y-yeah. The view’s so nice. That sunset is...something.”

Catra laughs. “You don’t have to be so weird, Adora. Tell me about your bomb-disarming sesh with Kyle. I heard he killed the entire Horde army.” 

“Oh, like it was his job,” Adora loosens up, and Catra laughs harder. They talk to each other about their day, their bodies twisting and leaning, closer and closer until they talk in a whisper and they are each playing with each other’s hands, each taking turns to look at each other a little too long, trying to understand what they’re doing here.

“I think we’re going to visit a campsite soon. I’ve been hearing people are traveling through the valleys of Talon Mountain. They’ve been able to mine a few things too,” says Catra.

“Is that why you think we’ll be sent out soon?”

“Well, that and we’re second-year cadets. They always send out second-years to the mines.”

“That would be so cool,” Adora says.

“Waking up on the top of a mountain together--” Catra pauses, but then Adora says--

“I’d love that,” and then she says, “As long as I get to be with you.” 

It was like they had stepped into hot sand.

Catra can’t look Adora in the face, but she feels her eyes on her, beams of heat over her skin. She feels naked. She laces their fingers together, but keeps her gaze down. She doesn't know why she does it, just that she wants to, and it feels good to have their hands so close.

“What are you doing?” Catra whispers.

Adora hears her heartbeat right outside of her ear. She wishes for a cup of water, a mouthful of a ration bar, something that would let her think with Catra’s hand in hers. Adora can’t look Catra in the face either, but she squeezes Catra’s hands back. 

“I--”

The alarm catches them both off guard, different from usual, this one more distressed. Adora’s eyes go right to the door, then to Catra’s. Without thinking, the two girls hop into one of the open storage containers, landing on thick sheets of fiberglass and wool. Catra’s toenail gets caught in the fabric, and when she falls, Adora has her hands on both of her shoulders and she falls with her. They slap a hand on each other’s mouths to muffle their screams. 

The footsteps fall behind each other one by one. The sound of people talking to each other loudly, laughing, carries over to them and fills the rooftop. There’s a silent panic at the sound of materials being unloaded around them, the whizzing of machinery starting up. Catra’s ear twitches. Someone knocks on the metal of their hiding place, saying the insulation needs to be put in soon. Adora locks onto Catra’s growing panic, breath caught until the construction workers finally walk away. Adora sighs, then looks up past the walls of the giant container. They need to get out of here. 

Adora moves quietly and kicks herself up one of the walls to peek over. A few to their left. Two to their right. No one behind them. She comes back down and counts to three.

Catra follows her out like a shadow. They glance around before weaving between the giant racks of paneling and metal pipes, making their way around the rooftop until they reach a vent. Catra uses her claws to remove the screws on the bottom. Lifting it open, Catra climbs through it first. Adora hesitates.

“Adora, come on!”

She gently drops the vent behind her and crawls behind Catra. 

“Adora,” Catra whispers.

“What?”

“You just snuck past a bunch of Horde builders.”

“I know--”

“Are you thinking of joining the rebels? You’re kind of on a roll here.” 

“Oh, haha, yeah, very funny. Do you see the exit?” 

“Uh...yeah but-- _oh.”_

“Oh what?” 

“Sshh. It’s Hordak’s little demon.”

They still, barely breathing in the tight space. Adora feels the balls of sweat rolling down the sides of her face, the humidity of the vent leaking through her uniform. She strangles the sound that wants to come out of her mouth. 

Catra’s tail wraps around her wrist. There is a silent calm between them. 

Then a scream.

Catra jumps in place, hitting her back on the vent and taking Adora’s wrist with her. Adora falls hard on her chin and cries out. Catra hurries forward, and Adora pulls her body after her. The vent is harder to open from the inside. Catra slams her body against the gate and falls through. Adora rushes out of the vent, welcoming the light and the open space. The ground meets her body, cool and unrestricted. She takes deep breaths and closes her eyes as she feels the ground’s coolness warm under her touch. Imp’s ringing is distant, as distant as Catra’s voice.

She staggers onto her feet. Adora, without thinking, gently wobbles into Catra and she almost falls over but she grabs Catra’s wrist and steadies herself. Catra’s watering eyes threaten to spill over. The sound is still muddled, but her vision is clear. She sees it clearly, the red that spills over from her cloak into her livid, square hands, and the shadows that leak out of her hair and from behind their bodies. 

Shadow Weaver’s voice will cut through anything. 

“Sneaking around, ignoring blatant restricted entry signs, damaging Horde property and disobeying my commands, give me one good reason I shouldn’t dispose of you like the garbage that you are right now.”

Adora’s voice is trapped. She looks to Catra, whose watered eyes have frosted over just enough, her voice steady and confident and a way that is just her, has always been and belongs there. 

“Because I know something nobody else does.”

Adora’s eyes widen. 

Shadow Weaver narrows her eyes. “And what’s that?”

“I know where the hidden tombs are. The ones that disappeared after the Treaty of Snows.”

Adora looks on at her, confused. 

“Why would I care about something as insignificant as an old king’s tomb?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the third king’s shield. The one that’s made with a piece of red carnelian gemstone?”

Adora swallows, unfamiliar with the girl her eyes have locked onto. She thinks Catra must have learned all that when she was researching the battles of the Fright Zone, and thinks Catra knew something that Shadow Weaver didn’t. Because of course, what time does Shadow Weaver have to look into the history of the people who lived here when she had an empire to build under Hordak’s name?

Shadow Weaver narrows her eyes, focusing on the scared come and go of Catra’s eyes. The old woman meets her at eye level.

“What could you possibly know about any of this?”

Adora hurriedly looks at Catra, who is already reciting its disc number.

“That disc has vital data on what happened shortly after the signing of the treaty. Something they didn’t want its kingdom to remember.” 

Shadow Weaver stares at her for a long time. She measures every part of her, even the parts that can’t be seen by either of them. Her hands clasp together before her and she says, “And am I supposed to trust a degenerate like you?” 

Adora flinches. 

“I guess there’s only one real way to find out, isn’t there? I’ll even bring you the disc myself.”

Shadow Weaver measures her again, somehow drawn in and repulsed all at once. “I’ll drag this out, if that is your wish. But I will not reel back any of my promises, Catra. You are barely walking as we speak.”

Catra holds back all the poison she wants to spit out.

Shadow Weaver disappears along with all of her shadows, swept away by a much larger force than she can ever pretend to be. Imp flutters down into the gallery’s emptiness and peers into Catra’s eyes with his empty, dead green ones. Catra flashes it the middle finger, and struts away in the opposite direction. Adora runs after her.


	4. with you (or without)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these are so random 
> 
> happy holidays from the us! :)

“Catra, wait!”

Adora isn’t sure of what just happened. 

Catra stood up to Shadow Weaver. She said she knows something the sorceress doesn’t.

And she...didn’t argue back. 

Adora is back in the library, chasing Catra’s shadow. Catra’s steps are focused and demanding, as if the library is opening up rows of endless data for her to take. She commands a powerful presence. The discs themselves would stand at attention if they could. 

Catra stops suddenly. Her tail wraps around Adora’s wrist, tense with excitement.

“Here.”

Catra pulls out several discs from the row before them. She reorganizes them in a way only she understands, and Adora watches with an uncertain look on her face.

“Uh, what are you--”

Catra holds up a finger and Adora quiets. She looks over the discs, and counts again. “I’m missing one. It has to be in another section. Come with me.” 

With the discs firmly secured in one hand, she grabs Adora and pulls her around the library, taking them further into the data collected on the geographical landscapes. It is like they had stepped into a different plane of being, a physical network at the touch of their hands. She asks Adora to hold her discs and Adora takes them before she’s finished asking. She has never seen this side of Catra before. Frantic, focused, authoritative--sorting through data Adora is now certain no one else has cared enough to look through. Catra collects the one she’s looking for, and then a few more for good measure. 

“Okay,” she says, letting out a deep breath. “I need--”

“I’m in.”

Catra chuckles, trying to hide the creeping blush with her big hair. “Uh, I didn’t even finish what I was--”

“Whatever you need,” Adora says, looking between the discs in her hands and Catra’s surprised but grateful eyes. “I’m with you. What do we do?”

Catra lays it out. They need to sort through all of the data and decide what they’re bringing to Shadow Weaver. She tasks Adora with studying the Scorpion people’s social and cultural traditions and the royal family tree.

“I’m going to look through every major battle and its post-battle reparations. And treaties, trades, agreements--”

“What are we tracking again? You said it before but--”

“It’s The Third King’s shield. I’ve read a little about it before but its technology is infused with magic. I don’t really understand how it works yet, but the third king won every single battle with it. We need to know how it got into their hands, and where it disappeared to. I just don’t know how long this is going to take.”

They sit together at a small table with two small computers for their respective use. Adora has a packet of sticky notes ready to scribble onto, and Catra has her thin notepad. 

“Well, we don’t have anything tomorrow right? I’ll stay up with you. It’ll be fun, like we’re preparing for a secret mission together.” 

Catra laughs. “Okay, just don’t be mad if I pull your little hair puff after you fall asleep.”

“As long as you won’t get mad if I wiggle your ears,” Adora says.

“Whatever, you weirdo.”

Catra is quicker than Adora. There is no real surprise there--Catra has already spent a lot of time learning on her own. She skips through the data until she gets to where she wants to be, scans and scribbles her notes quickly. Adora watches Catra’s fast work and stares at her own computer screen. The page of contents is overwhelming enough. 

Catra shoots her a quick glance while she writes her own notes and feels guilt in her stomach. “Here,” she says. She reaches over and grabs the sticky notes from Adora’s side and writes down specifically what she needs. “We want to know if they had any rituals for their dead, especially royalty. We also want to know their relationship with magic and the other kingdoms, and how their communications were. Like exchanges, rituals, ceremonies--things like that, okay?”

Adora nods. “That I can do. Thanks.” She takes the note Catra holds out for her and starts to read through the data. Adora colors her side of the desk with crowds of bright yellow sticky notes, writing down all that interests her and all that leaves her wanting to know more. 

“You know,” Catra says, the pen in her hand scribbling away, “I think it’s weird that The Fright Zone seems to be the black sheep of Etheria.”

Adora looks up from a fire ritual she was soaked into. “Huh?” 

“Like, uhm…” Catra finishes her note, and looks at Adora. “No one liked the Scorpions. No one. And who’s to say that there wasn’t a real reason for that. I mean, the Treaty of Snows. The Third King signed it and disappeared shortly after. And the entire kingdom was essentially on its own after that.” 

Adora touches her cheek. “But it wasn’t really exile.” 

“Not really. What if they wanted to get rid of him? What if the shield was a threat to Etheria?” 

Adora knows Catra is just thinking aloud, but she wonders too, about everything that had happened on this land before she walked it. This library stands, and the walls of this kingdom, and the sky rests above them exoskeleton, stormy red, but its people have fallen apart. Why? 

Catra gasps, and Adora is pulled out of the spiraling theories forming in her mind. “Did you find anything on death ceremonies?” 

Adora blinks and looks back at the passage she was on. “Just this one about fire--”

“Let me see!” 

Catra’s body is between Adora and the small computer screen. She wiggles onto Adora’s lap, her tail gently twisting on Adora’s arm as she scans the screen before her. Catra’s eyes sift through the passage like her own mind is a computer and all of her doors have green lights above them. Adora sits, curious, uncertain, excited, underneath Catra’s weight. The softness of her tail sends a shiver up her spine. 

“This says that warlords would choose to die through ceremonial fire. What the fuck?”

Adora’s cheeks are stinging painfully. “Right.” 

Catra stares at the screen for a while longer, her eyes going wide, “Adora, I think I know where we need to go.”

“Catra,” Adora’s throat is dry. She doesn’t hear her. Catra’s body rubs a little too intimately into hers, and Adora’s mind is shot with so many questions. Catra speaks and Adora clings onto the sounds of words dancing out of her mouth. 

“Horror Hall. It’s the only place with a volcano and land hot enough for this type of ceremony. Adora--” 

Catra’s ocean and fire meet sky blue. Adora is sitting with her hands clasped behind her chair, skin hot, heart pulsing. Catra’s nose catches a scent of familiar citrus. Her ears perk and twitch. “What’s wrong?” Catra asks, but she knows exactly what. 

“You’re literally on me,” Adora almost yells. 

With the same confidence she had in the face of Shadow Weaver, Catra guides both of Adora’s hands around her waist. “Since when were you so shy?” About touching her, she wants to say. Adora knows what she means. 

“I’m not shy,” Adora huffs. Catra is hot with Adora’s hands on her waist now, how they quickly brush over her thighs as Adora builds a home with her body. Underneath Adora’s hands Catra’s bravado vanishes and all that is left is unweighted meanness, embarrassment, and want. 

Want?

“Can you put your hair up, at least?” her voice is quiet in Catra’s ears. 

Catra lifts up her arms and then her hair. She wraps it slowly in a messy bun over her head, sensitive to how Adora adjusts her hold on her, how Adora feels more of her body with her back stretched out before her. Adora eyes its low dip. She thinks it's like a deep river, deep like she can dip her hand in it and imagines it would be smooth, soft, and cool to the touch. 

Catra keeps her gaze on the computer when she is done. “Happy?” 

It is just the screen and the unchanging words in front of them before Adora finally says, “Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Yeah,” Catra says, and then she leans over the table, her bottom pressing into Adora’s lap. Catra knows exactly what she’s doing. She doesn’t know why she wants Adora to say something about it so bad. “Well, we’ve got something concrete to tell Shadow Weaver.” 

“Right,” Adora says again. “Hey.”

Catra turns to face her. Adora’s face is oddly stoic. “What?” 

“I need you to be honest with me.” 

Oh? “Okay.” 

“Are you scared?” 

Oh. Frowning, Catra thinks for a moment, straightening and wrapping an arm around Adora’s shoulders. “Yeah,” a small quiver hides in her breath, but Adora hears it, and she tightens her hold around her. “I just don’t want to be…” wrong? Embarrassed? Punished? “...disposable. To anyone.”

Adora hates that this is Catra’s worst fear. Not princesses. Not Hordak. But abandonment. To be garbage. 

“You know I’m with you, always, right?” 

Their hands find each other again. The warmth is a little different this time around, like it will always be there, just like it always has been. “You’re sappy.”

“Yeah, well,” Adora says, “You should try being sappy for once.” 

“Sure,” Catra says, “Let’s get sappy after we talk to Shadow Weaver.” 

“Promise?”

Catra doesn’t know where it comes from. She leans forward, and presses soft lips onto Adora’s cheek. Right after, she flicks the dazed look out of Adora’s eyes. “I swear on the little puff on your head.” 

Catra jumps out of Adora’s lap. She moves quickly as she collects all of her notes and returns all of the discs to their shelves. Adora runs through a mental maze and every thought is cut off with the weight and heat of Catra’s soft lips touching her skin. She sees Catra disappear in between the media shelves, and sees her re-appear, closing the computer screen and organizing Adora’s notes for her, a pout on her mouth. Her eyes widen as she realizes she’s been wanting to feel that softness.

“You cleaned up quick,” pink riddles Adora’s cheeks as she finds it in her to speak. 

“Yeah, you seemed to be going through some sort of mental crisis,” Catra says. “Are you ready? The wicked witch awaits.” 

“Hey,” Adora frowns. “Careful.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Catra’s steps become heavier as they near Shadow Weaver’s chamber. The papers in Catra’s hands tremble. 

“Catra--” Adora starts.

“No,” Catra says. She takes a deep breath. She relaxes her shoulders, loosens her jaw. Catra gives the door ahead a hard look. “We’re doing this. I’m changing the way she sees me. I don’t care what it takes. I know this is out there.” 

Catra looks into her eyes, searching for the hidden meaning in them, the source of the soft glow in the serious and frowning Adora. Cold air rushes into their faces as the metal door splits open before them. Shadow Weaver stands by the glowing red gemstone, it’s bloodied light staining everything in there red, elongating all of the shadows. 

Catra steps forward without Adora.


End file.
